high on jobi nuts
by Eskimo82
Summary: A collection of short(er) non-interrelated stories for writing practice.
1. Chapter 1: Best laid plans

**Chapter 1: Best-laid plans (of mice and men) often go awry**

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 **Summary** : Clarke invites Bellamy for a study date

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 **Notes** : I'm rewatching season 1 and there is this one scene in 109 which doesn't leave me alone. I really, _really_ wanted to use _that line_ under different (happier?) circumstances.

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When Clarke invited Bellamy for a study date to her home, she didn't think much of it.

They are both taking the same class and, conveniently so, they are both back in the same town for the break.

They've known each other since childhood; starting out as friends, as much as six to fourteen-year-olds can be; turning to frenemies when puberty hit. They reconnected during college and they've been, sort of, secretly seeing each other for a few months now.

Their "relationship" started in the midst of a heated argument one night, which led to not entirely innocent kisses in the neglected section of the campus library twenty minutes later.

In retrospect, she doesn't know what took them so long to get there.

They've had _this thing_ going on for a while now (four months, to be precise), which meant a lot of making out in the supply closet first; and leading to secret rendezvous in his room, or hers, when the roommates were not around. _It's all under control_ , she supposes, well, _most of the time_.

In her defense, when she invited Bellamy she did mean a _study_ date. As in the purest meaning of the term. They are not really _together_ together, more like enjoying each other's company, still mostly platonic; more like those people who re-connect after a few rocky years and like making out - like a lot.

So when her mother was called in working the night shift the other night - leaving an empty apartment all to Clarke for the night - it just provided the perfect environment to study. Or so she'd thought.

Truth be told, if it weren't for a Tuesday night, she would have decided for the public library. Tuesdays just meant way too many people with their kids for her liking, when finding a silent corner on the premises was doomed to be impossible. Besides, why to cross half the town when she had an empty apartment on her hands? With a fully stocked fridge and carefully selected snacks (versus the ground floor vending machine), in a five-meter radius, she reasoned.

It just seemed more convenient to stay.

But then she opens the door to the boy with a dusting of freckles splashed across his face, his inky curls falling over his forehead in a beautiful disarray. He also smells amazing, to top it all, a (once irritating now adored) cheeky smile plastered all over his face. He is a sight to look at alright.

She mumbles a silent thanks to heavens that she decided to run a brush through her hair that afternoon, combing it into a loose half top knot; or that she'd picked to wear the green deep V-neck - her only decent (read: clean and comfy) elbow length t-shirt she kept at home for wear. Maybe she'd also thrown on a layer of mascara. Maybe. Just because she was to stay at home she wanted to look nice.

What does it, though, is a glimpse at the faded cut above his lips, as his mouth is twisting up, slow, into a full, toothy grin.

(She's grown to learn over the years that he had an uncanny ability to pull his smiles. Her favourites are the kind of smiles when she feels her knees go weak at the sight. Which used to be exactly the kind of smiles that she'd found just infuriating before. But that was before.)

And his goddamn arms.

A glimpse. One glimpse is all it takes to grab him by the collar and to tangle her fingers in his shirt, - that goddamn deep blue tee showcasing his well-defined arms; that innocent item of clothing he knows perfectly well _how much she likes_ \- pulling him through the door and latching her lips onto his.

He doesn't look or feel surprised, far from it, because he instantly deepens the kiss, backing her up. One sneaky hand finds her hips, slamming the door behind him with the other.

They kiss, which feels to be hours, rather than the mere minutes that has actually passed.

They kiss until her back hits the side of the antique mahogany cupboard housing her mother's fancy china.

In the end, it is the rattling sound of the expensive china that makes her slow down and break the kiss.

They are still panting, foreheads pressing together when Bellamy's chuckles pull her back to reality.

"Hello to you, too," he says, giddy, a little bit still out of breath.

His smile, she recognises belatedly, is one of his true Bellamy smiles, the one reserved only for her; a smile that makes her want to grab him by the side of his neck, pulling him down for a long, searing kiss. Again.

"Shut up and get to work," she breathes against his mouth, sounding desperate even to her. Not that she cares.

"Bossy, " he mutters, but he does get to work, chewing his way down already under the sensitive skin of her ears.

Soon enough, his hands are back on her like the glue, palms eagerly trailing down her sides, pausing only at the small of her back, pulling her body into his.

* * *

 _Three hours later_ and they find themselves lying in her bed, warm under the covers, very much naked and equally sated.

They drifted off for a while, tangled up in each other and all that, study be damned.

What wakes her are his fingers trailing up and down her back, soothing, tracing the dips and rises running along her spine. He stops at her hips from time to time to rub a few light circles into her skin. His fingers are slow and determined, affectionate.

It's the lazy times like this when she feels those unspoken words, heavy, however innocent they might be. Nevertheless, she feels them on the tip of her tongue, more often than not lately, and she's convinced that something silly is dangerously close to bubble out of her.

In all honesty, it all feels like a dream.

It will come out eventually, she knows. But until then, she has him now, like this.

They are back to the kissing agenda, soon after, and it's not like she wants to bail on that. She likes kissing him.

Kissing Bellamy starts like it always does: small and sweet and cautious at first, more like soft, lazy nibbling on the lips, which then blooms into something hot and passionate.

They can truly get lost in each other, it doesn't matter the act.

By the time she hears Bellamy breathing the words in the crook of her neck, they are fully awake and into it.

She blames it on his sinful lips, which are distracting enough on their own. And then there's also the way he looks at her: his gaze touches her to the core. So, of course, she doesn't recognise the words at first.

His hands are trailing dangerously high up on her inner thigh when the meaning behind the words actually hit her.

 _Your mom's early._

"What?" she asks slowly, coming out of a daze.

"Your mom's early," Bellamy murmurs, louder this time, fanning the words into her skin, as he's continuing his mission of planting small kisses along her skin. He's kissing down her neck, soft lips leaving a trail of wet and hot on her body, goosebumps rising in its wake.

"WHAT?!" she freezes suddenly, eyes growing wide in panic.

"Your mom's early-"

"- I heard you the first time," she mumbles, a bit annoyed, yet mostly horrified, already pushing him away.

At last, she hears the entrance door slam shut, keys jiggling down the hall, right before she registers her mother's voice ringing through the closed bedroom door. "Clarke? Honey, are you home?"

Clarke Griffin is nothing if not prepared for all contingencies. So she straightens her back, takes a deep calming breath and whispers (sounding more like a hiss): "Get out."

Bellamy stops in his ministrations, cocking an eyebrow at her as if to say ' _Are you serious?_ ', instead, he says: "What?" rolling his eyes.

"You heard me," she mumbles. "Get. Out!"

A surprised Bellamy is glaring at her, his eyebrows furrowed into a grim line.

"You can hide under the bed," she teases, fighting a smile.

"What?! No! I'm not hiding -" he protests, pursing his lips. He's cut off by Clarke's hands on his mouth in an instant and she's climbing on top of him, practically straddling him.

His hot breath is fanning her skin, she can also feel his tongue darting out, licking her palm, which is just ... besides being several levels of cute is also really distracting.

She groans.

"What I meant is," she starts, carefully lifting her hand and placing them on his shoulders instead. "That you could hide under my bed until I ..."she pauses, tilting her head to the side, eyebrows knotted in a furrow.

 _Until what, Clarke?_ she asks herself, pondering.

"Okay... "she pinches her nose and takes a deep breath, solidifying in her newfound resort.

"Just stay here, okay?"

He nods and she brushes her lips against his before pushing herself up.

"I'll go and talk to her."

So she does what she does best: taking things in a stride.

First, she combs her fingers through her hair, resembling a bird's nest by now, she's sure.

Then she grabs the blanket, effectively tugging it off of Bellamy and leaving him naked (very naked and distractingly so) on the bed. She wraps the thin material around her body, taking a deep breath to calm herself, and she storms out of the room without any further hesitance.

Abby is in the hall, hardly standing on her feet. Her eyes wide and tired, silently questioning.

"Mom, before you say anything …" Clarke beats her, "I'm legal and I'm not alone."

She can hear Bellamy's uncontrollable guffaws behind her as she steps into the hall. They will have to talk soon about labels and stuff, and probably, she should introduce him to Abby at some point. Well, very near into the future, within a few hours seems like it.

She shakes her head as if to clear it and turns to Abby, taking a deep breath - steeling herself for whatever it is to come.

Arguing with Bellamy is fine, fairly enjoyable at times, but kissing him is the best. She's pretty sure that she's going to keep him around.

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 **End notes** : Thank you all for reading and I hope you liked it; **kudos & comments** are a great way of showing that


	2. Chapter 2: She's a Lady

**Summary** : Bellarke + _FBI special agent goes undercover on a beauty pageant_

x

"Can you stop fidgeting, Griffin?" the deep voice rings in her head.

It's her partner/superior on the case, Special Agent Bellamy Blake. One of the most annoying, if not the most annoying agents at the bureau.

There's also Cage Wallace, but.

 **Notes** : Very (very) loosely based on the movie _Miss Congeniality_ : Female agent goes undercover on a beauty pageant. But that's about it. I might also add that she's rather ordinary looking than Sandra Bullock's run-down character at the beginning of the movie.

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 **She's a Lady**

* * *

Clarke sighs, mentally preparing herself for what is about to come. _Bikini contest._ Again.

She groans internally.

As plans go, this is not one of their worst.

"Can you stop fidgeting, Griffin?" the deep voice rings in her head.

It's her partner/superior on the case, Special Agent Bellamy Blake. One of the most annoying, if not _the_ most annoying agents at the bureau.

There's also Cage Wallace, but.

No one likes to be partnered with Cage; but it was still Special Agent Blake's (Bellamy's) idea to "bribe" her way into the TOP 5 in this ridiculous beauty pageant. Which makes _him_ the actual worst.

She admittedly wore baggy and (some might say) unexciting clothes before. Well, they are not wrong.

Her work clothes are practical for a reason: dark pants or knee-length dark skirts with a white or grey blouse and a suit jacket. It's professional and she is a professional.

Bikinis? Bikinis are something she does like to wear on a beach, where no one from work is around.

Not to mention that she's not one of those casually-throwing-on-a-complicated-make-up-in-two-minutes type of girls. On an average day, a natural coloured chapstick and a mascara are all she needs. She wants to be praised by her merits and not by the colour of her lipstick or the cup size of her bra.

She knew how to put on basic foundation or how to apply a blush before. Her last girlfriend has trained her well on the tricks of putting on a perfect winged eyeliner, thank you very much. So what if she prefers to spend those extra ten minutes in the mornings in bed. Everyone needs a beauty sleep, and she likes to enjoy hers longer.

No, this whole undercover job was Bellamy's idea. That cocky, annoyingly handsome … _person_. Including his freckles and soft looking curls, that is.

(Whom she internally calls an _asshole_ on her bad days, and "yeah, he's one of my friends" on the better ones.)

 _Damn him_.

If it weren't for him, she wouldn't be standing behind the curtain in a flimsy, night-blue bikini. Nevertheless the fact that if it weren't for him, she'd be collecting dust behind a desk, doing very exciting background "research".

 _A goddamn bikini_ , she takes a deep, calming breath.

It's all about work, she concedes, trying very hard not to think about the inevitable: that she'll be on national television within a matter of mere minutes. In _something_ that is hardly covering her ass. Or her breasts.

"Clarke," he calls again." Are you listening to me?"

"It's hard not to, considering you're inside of me 24/7", she mutters.

She can hear Monty's snickering and Miller's uncontrolled guffaws by the time her brain catches up with what she's just said.

Her face heats up.

 _Shit_.

A beat later, Bellamy clears his throat. " _Whoa_. That was unexpectedly straightforward from you, Special Agent Griffin." His voice is somewhat croaky, and she can practically see the mental image of his smug face and cocky smile. "If you wanna ask me out, do it like normal people do." And then: "I'm really not that hard to please."

She rolls her eyes. "That came out wrong," she says. "You know what I mean," she adds.

"Ha! I really don't," he laughs.

Sometimes she thinks he's outright flirting with her. Well, if she's being honest, they do have a little flirtation going on ever since they've got over their initial animosity. Then again, maybe - maybe she's reading too much into it. (And then there's also the fact that her previous flirty relationships did not exactly end very well. Being cautious is just smart.)

But then she cannot help thinking that she also knows a few fairly personal things about him. How he calls his sister every Thursday night - more often than not with a frown edged between his eyebrows. Or that he wears exclusively red socks on Fridays. (Nevermind that their dress code clearly states _dark coloured socks_ for agents.)

Clearly, as a form of rebellion, she supposes.

(Not that she cares, but she noticed.)

x

"Now. Eyes back on the field, head back in the game, Agent Griffin," his voice suddenly stern.

 _Oh right, there are some bad guys to catch._

x

The last thing she remembers before the overexposed stage lights are blinding her is his reassuring voice. It's gravelly yet low like a whisper, only for her to hear. "Uhm, you look great, by the way."

Her mouth curves up and into a smile, and she lets herself admit that it is only partly because she is out there, on the centre stage, playing a part.

* * *

Hardly an hour later, after all hell broke lose, her sides are splitting in pain. She's outside the ceremony centre, breathing heavily - in an attempt to pump some much-needed air into her lungs.

The adrenaline is slowly leaving her body when she finally notices her fellow agents swarming all over the place.

She spots Miller, leading Shumway away before she catches sight of Bellamy running up to her side.

"Next time -" she pants, leaning over Diana Sydney's body - having her pinned down on the dark Sedan's front hood. She's still pretty winded from the chase.

She's kicked her heels off somewhere inside the building. So she's barefoot; the warmth of the asphalt seeping up her legs and into her bones, easing the tense of her muscles on their way. Her hair feels rather messy, tickling against her chin. She doesn't want to think about it even if she's absolutely sure that the slit running along the side of her dress is now ending provocatively high up on her thighs. She faintly recalls the ripping sound when the delicate fabric tore apart. (Nothing they haven't seen before. Not really, considering her barely clad runaway performance just a few hours ago.)

"- next time -," she repeats, a bit still out of breath, "- you'll be the one dressing up and parading around like a Barbie doll, Blake."

Bellamy considers her for a few seconds before his face is splitting into a wide (and remarkably attractive) smile.

"So is that a _yes_ for a date?"

* * *

Three weeks later and they are snuggling on her couch. His fingers are drumming along her sides, his warm body a solid presence next to hers.

Life's been busy, but they did manage to get around that date after all - exactly twenty minutes ago.

"What do you say, Griffin?" he asks, with a stupid smile playing on his lips. "Wanna do this again?"

She tilts her head, tapping a finger to her lips as if she genuinely needs the time to consider this. Her resolve crumbles the moment he tugs her closer to him, already leaning in.

"Whenever you're ready."

* * *

The next day, she orders a 3 pack of red socks with cute little white dots online.

 _Just in case_ , she tells herself, but she already knows her Fridays are not going to be the same.

xxxxxxx x

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 **End notes** : Thanks for reading and any form of feedback ( **kudos** and/or **comments** ) would be nice. Thanks!


	3. Chapter 3: Game night

**Summary** : Bellarke + _that epic quote from 302._

 **Notes** : Bellarke modern AU. I'm sorry in advance, this is so stupid.

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 **Game night**

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Bellamy Blake is not dealing very well with surprises. He doesn't hate them, per se, but there's that awkward moment of silence, when he completely freezes, and ... Well, moments like that make him uncomfortable. He's a master of words after all.

His friends are truly awful sometimes. Or wonderful, it's a matter of perspective.

* * *

All in all, he has a pretty good life. He has a good job he actually enjoys, a sister who's - years later but - finally coming around and a handful of said friends.

Some might say his life is nothing out of the ordinary, which is true, but he begs to differ. So what if he has a well thought out schedule in place? It's not a crime. He's worked his ass off to get where he is now, and ... he is happy.

Unlike other people, he likes Mondays. He likes being back in the school (7:15 on the dot) and teaching the kids. It's not a chore, it's an honour to be part of their lives.

Tuesdays are his least favourite days. It's laundry day. It's not that he hates doing the laundry, but it's just one of those mundane things that have to be done.

Wednesdays are coffee with Octavia or Clarke. Or lately, with Octavia and Clarke - now that they've started speaking to each other again.

His Thursdays are spent late into the afternoon - on occasion into the night - doing after hours activity with the kids. It's tiring but he wouldn't change it for anything. Clarke thinks he's going to have a bunch of kids. (With her? He could have a dozen, but - he cannot exactly tell her that.) So yeah, there's some truth to that.

Fridays mean drinks with the three musketeers first: Miller, Monty and Murphy. His late Friday nights, though, are reserved for his (possibly) never-ending online series called ' _What's wrong with' …_ , his youtube channel dedicated to revealing blatant inaccuracies broadcasted on TV.

Clarke thinks it's hilarious.

"It's hilarious," she spat through a fit of giggles when she finally caught him editing an episode of ' _What's wrong with… Young Hercules_ '. (She subscribed the same night. She was teasing him for a week.)

The youtube thing started out of a dare with Miller, but well… his subscription count is pretty decent, growing even, and he's doing extra money from the ads.

By now, he's got way too invested in the series, and it's not that easy to stop. (It's good. Temporarily, but it takes his mind off of his stupid crush.)

Saturdays are always a mess yet one of his favourites. He tries to sleep in but then is wide awake just a bit after 8am. So he wakes up, goes for a run. A quick morning shower and a breakfast and he's ready for the day. See, one of the reasons he's not doing laundry over the weekend is Clarke. Clarke shows up and they end up spending the day. And they do stuff. Together.

Miller thinks _that_ is hilarious. His exact words were, ' _You're giving me grey hair prematurely, Blake'_ , his tone half teasing, half unimpressed. (He flipped him off.) These days, Miller simply regards him for a moment, arms crossed across his chest. Sometimes he drastically yawns.

(Yeah, it's not that big of a secret. He's more than a little bit in love with Clarke.)

Which brings us to Sundays.

He supposes normal people spend Sundays with their wife or husband and the kids. He doesn't have a spouse or a girlfriend (he's working on it) let alone a kid (yet), but. His Sundays are reserved for his ragtag family and charades.

* * *

They are on a recess since Jasper and Maya had to leave early. They've argued for a solid twenty minutes about how to reorganise the teams.

He's not too happy about the change, his team was winning. Just about, but winning.

The opposing team now consists of Monty, Raven and Miller. So it's him and Clarke against Team Reyes. (The thing is, he was Team Reyes before. But the unspoken rule is, when Raven gets sorted to a team, it's Team Reyes. No debates.)

Clarke being on his team is a first in years. They've tried being on the same team once, before. It lasted for two minutes.

But it's been years, and for what it's worth, they are friends now.

* * *

Last round. The stakes are high. He's more anxious by the minute, making sweat prickle along his forehead.

In an attempt to soothe his nerves, Clarke probes him with a joke. Bad move. Bellamy's not proud of what comes next.

He finally breaks, raking a hand through his hair. He throws himself back on the couch, hands grasping on his thighs. "We can't lose!" he snaps. "We can't lose, Clarke!"

It's quiet for a beat. She cocks an eyebrow at him.

Monty makes a face.

Miller stops mid-movement, already have taken his place in the middle of the living room. Bellamy narrows his eyes at him. He cannot grasp it yet, but something is happening.

Monty is acting weirder than usual. He's looking forward, way too excited, jovially clapping his hands on his thighs. Clearly on the verge of bursting out.

At last Raven jumps to her feet, biting back on a smile.

"BELLAMY IS IN LOVE WITH CLARKE!" she shouts.

Time stops.

Bellamy stills, trying to make sense of what just happened.

His cheeks grow warm. He scratches the back of his neck and heaves a deep sigh. Clarke turns her head to look at him. Like really look at him. She's squinting her eyes - the thing she does when she's trying hard reading his mind.

Damn it.

 _Dammit, Miller. Dammit, Raven. Dammit, this stupid game._

His face is burning up like the sun.

Clarke stares at him. "Is that true?"

He swallows but quickly recovers, pressing his lips together.

 _Being a man whose life is devoted to words, and he can't put together the three most important ones._

And then, he recognises that hopeful glint in Clarke's eyes and sees the tiny curve in her mouth, which ... It's a good sign.

So he does that admittedly stupid thing with his mouth that he hopes is coming across more like his trademark crooked, shy smile and less like a sneer. He's not aiming to creep her out. Just the opposite.

"Yeah," he croaks, "for real."

* * *

They lose in the end.

He was ... No, he _is_ a teensy bit distracted. His mind is racing, going over everything in his head.

They didn't talk when the game ended, he left the room with the lamest excuse ever: " _I'm going to refill the snack bowl"_ (true) and " _I'm getting some water_ _because I'm thirsty"_ (not the full truth).

To be completely honest, he's not okay. He's not. They've lost. He never loses in charades. And there's also the fact of his feelings for Clarke. _She knows._ He needs a moment for himself to figure this out.

* * *

He's is sulking in the kitchen when Clarke finds him, playfully bumping her hips against his and hopping on the barstool closest to him.

"If you think about it," she starts, "it's not a total failure."

"Hmmm," he says, grim. "You think?"

She regards him.

"Yeah." She scoots closer and drags the barstool with her. He wants to scold her for scratching the tiles but thinks better of it. _It's really not the time_.

"You got the girl."

It's a statement.

 _Huh_.

"Right?"

He snorts and shakes his head, with a relieved smile tugging at his lips. "Looks like it." He steps in closer and brushes his thumbs against her cheeks. Now that he can.

She closes her eyes and leans into his touch. "Bellamy, stop stalling. I really wanna kiss you."

He huffs out a breath. "Hey," brushing his nose against hers. "Before _that_... Do you …. do you want to have dinner with me tonight?"

She smiles.

"Alright."

* * *

Clarke stays when the rest of their friends leave. They end up sleeping together, tangled in his bed, completely dressed.

(He wants to do this one thing right.)

* * *

Monday he's still eight minutes late from work. (As explanations go, sporting a hickey high up on his neck doesn't help.)

xxxxxxxxxxxxx

xxx

* * *

 **End notes:**

I know. I know it might be confusing around the game but I left it deliberately vague.

If you have any questions, do ask. Please? You know where to find me. ;-)

(There's a quote from a 90's movie in this which I just watched the other day, and that silly quote stuck with me. It just fit my story perfectly. Bonus points if you can guess which quote and which movie.)


	4. Chapter 4: PUT THE PUPPY DOWN

Bellamy gets a dog on a Wednesday. He doesn't _get one_ per se, more like adopts one. Because, well…. stray, cute and orphaned animals and cute kids are his weakness. And when he hears the whimpering from behind a trash bin in the alley of the kindergarten he works at, he has no other choice but to take it in. Yes, it is a must.

The vet confirms the next morning that the puppy is healthy and that it belongs to no one. He considers leaving it there and let the vet find the puppy a real home, but then it yips and looks at him with those big sad eyes, so. Really, he has no other choice but to adopt it.

He names it Jasper and buys a blanket, toys, food, bowls, a leash and a collar for him.

Raven calls him _Fluffball_ , Clarke calls him _Mr Jordan_ because she knows him too well.

Everyone in his friend group knows about Jasper Jordan. But maybe Clarke is the one who knows all about it - how hard it was on him exactly to say goodbye. Jasper was a kid in Bellamy's kindergarten class last year; an orphan, and quite possibly his favourite until he moved away with his new foster family.

He loves all his kids but Jasper was all smiles and fluffy hair and really cute with his toothless grin so it was not that hard to grow fond of him.

What matters is that Jasper was (is) a good kid and his foster family seemed to be nice, and Mr Vie wrote him a few times that they were doing fine… so he is not worried anymore.

He has Jasper, the puppy, for over a month now when Clarke storms into his apartment.

"BELLAMY BLAKE!"

Bellamy's sitting on his couch, in the middle of translating Dante's _Inferno_ from Italian to Tagalog when Clarke surprises him.

She's a welcome surprise most of the time. His life gets a little brighter every time she's around.

Jasper wags his tiny tail eagerly in greeting, yips and hops and runs a circle around Clarke before racing back to Bellamy, almost skidding on the floor.

Jasper jumps on the couch, Bellamy's work instantly forgotten when he reaches for the puppy to scratch that spot below his ears that he likes.

As he does so, he looks up at Clarke.

Her hair is a mess.

Her hair is always a mess, and he's kinda really into it (and into her) this way, but he has to admit that her trademark messy bun looks more messy than usual. Like she ran a marathon against the wind.

"What happened?" he asks, worry tainting his voice. He only stays seated because the puppy is rather content the way he's settled on his lap.

Clarke levels him with a look, which - quite honestly, is a little scary.

"PUT THE PUPPY DOWN AND FIGHT ME LIKE A MAN," she exclaims.

Jasper barks and he hugs him tighter, more out of reflex, and Bellamy yelps in surprise.

"What now?"

She gets rid of her coat as she steps in closer. Her lips are quivering, clearly on the verge of saying something more.

So he lets her.

But an excruciatingly long minute passes in silence and Clarke is still frozen in the exact same position.

"Clarke," he probes, careful.

Her eyes flick to his, drawing in a quick breath as she talks. "Did you, or did you not tell Finn Collins, my two-timer one-night stand Finn Collins that we are dating?"

 _Oh. About that -_

He has completely forgotten about that.

He knows (more like heard of) Finn Collins because of Raven - and of course he's heard of the _Collincident_ from Clarke - and when he met (totally by accident) said douchebag a year ago in his favourite coffee shop, and said douchebag had the wits to ask him about Clarke - and if she was dating anyone - of course Bellamy had said, "Actually… She is my girlfriend."

But it's been months ago… And, quite frankly, he didn't think much of it. Little did he know then that he would develop a massive thing for Clarke short after. He just wanted to help.

"Ummmm, sorry?" He says, because … One, he is kind of taken by surprise, and two, what more is there to say now not to sound too desperate. He doesn't feel bad for telling what he told Finn, but he feels guilty for not mentioning the thing to Clarke.

She huffs and crosses her arms right under her breasts. His eyes track the movement, the way the material of her shirt stretches, accentuating the swell of her …. He shakes his head. He should really not get distracted right now.

"Oh, you are sorry?" Clarke simply stares at him without saying anything more. There's a clear edge to her voice which he cannot yet decipher.

 _Shit_.

Another long moment later she adds, "Sorry for not telling me, or… sorry it's not true?" She sounds…. Not grumpy but kind of hopeful.

 _Oh._

 _Oooohhhhh._

He lets go of Jasper and jumps to his feet, practically crossing the room in one giant stride.

He's watching her for a bit before he nods to himself and pecks her on the cheek.

She laughs, which is a good start and a good sign he thinks.

She bites on her lips and smiles up at him.

Correction. He is sure. She likes him. She really likes him; like … LIKES HIM.

"Now kiss me like a man," but she doesn't wait any longer and grabs him by the collar, crushing her lips to his.

Jasper yips and starts running in happy circles around them.

* * *

 _A/N: Thanks for reading!_


	5. Chapter 5: Call Me Stubborn

**Summary** : No, Clarke won't let Cage Wallace win this poll again.

* * *

A _Bellarke_ _modern au_ ; where Bellamy and Clarke are in an established relationship

 **Rating** : not entirely G, but nothing explicit (more like hinting things)

 **A/N** : Life prompted me.

You have to have some knowledge about this e-online poll called Alpha Male Madness (because Bob Morley is in the final round and he has to win obviously) and I am not really explaining things.

* * *

 **Call Me Stubborn**

* * *

Clarke doesn't remember all the little details that led them to this: _Naked_ and panting and smiling like idiots.

Well, yeah. She does remember certain things.

Like how she huffed and grumbled in bed, just 2 hours ago, blinking herself awake. Until she remembered why she had gone to bed so late the night before. Or, as a matter of fact, the night before that.  
She sighed and reached for her phone.

"Oh my god, no," she huffed to herself. " _Nope_ , this is not happening."

She turned sideways and pushed herself up on her elbows, refreshing the page. With that, she was back to the voting business.

" _Clarke_."

She might have been buried into her task for quite a while, judging the numb feeling in her elbows when Bellamy's raspy voice had finally reached her tousled mind.

He sneaked a warm, teasing hand around her, his palm resting on her stomach.

Under normal circumstances, she would have put the phone away and let him take his time with her until they were properly woken up.

At that moment, however, she acknowledged with a deep sigh, they really didn't have time for that. _Dammit_.

He slipped his fingers into her panties and –

" _Bell_ ," she whined in warning, yet already a little breathless. "We don't have time for this _now_. Please."

He blew hot air into her skin, while nosing her ear, and rubbing a slow pattern with his fingers exactly how she likes it.

"You don't understand," she said, drawing in a deep breath, "I cannot let Cage win! _WE_ cannot let him win! He's an asshole. Everyone knows that."

"I bet his fans disagree, _Clarke_ ," he chuckled and slipped his fingers lower and deeper.

Clarke gasped. (And only partly out of indignation.)

"You know that Lincoln deserves to win this a trillion times more than Cage, _Bellamy_ ," she panted.

Without saying anything, Bellamy caught her earlobe between his teeth and simply hummed a sultry _mhmmmm_ in agreement.

She yelped a corresponding cry, which was mostly meant as an encouragement – to signal him that it was indeed okay to intensify his efforts.

Later, when both of them are completely naked, catching their breath, she grabs her phone, swiping the lock screen away with her pinky for an update.

"Give me the damn phone, Clarke," Bellamy nudges her sides with an elbow.

"What? No! You know we can't let up, now, Bell. We are in the lead. Every vote matters and we can't let that asshole win!"

" _We_?" He asks with an amused smile.  
A beat. "Alright. Just give me the damn phone and show me."

She grins, snuggling closer into his arms and starts explaining him the basic tricks.

* * *

"Holy shit!" she nearly moans, one hand tightening her grip in his hair, the other on her phone.

Bellamy peaks up at her, his chin a little shiny, his trademark, cunning smile tugging at his lips.

"Yeah?"

"Yeahhh," she sighs and he ducks his head back in.

She leaves him gasping for air not so long after, her hair is a mess but Lincoln voters has also taken a bigger lead online.

Nothing is impossible when she has Bellamy by her side. Best. Boyfriend. Ever.

"You wanna call our friends… _Or_ – ready for the next round?" he teases, pressing his lips to her temple.  
She laughs, as she raises to puff the pillow. "Yeah, the more the merrier. Just give us another twenty minutes."

"Whenever you're ready."

* * *

Yeah. She is sure. _Together_ , they can win this.

xxxxxxx

* * *

 **A/N** : I didn't spend a lot of time proof-reading it, so apologies for any mistakes.


	6. Chapter 6: Scruffy

**Summary** : This is a super short post season 4 canon reunion scene. Only happened because I really want _Clarke_ do _that_ and say that and _Bellamy say that_.

* * *

When the initial shock of seeing one another alive is over, they are inching their way closer with every heartbeat, until they can see every freckle and scar and fine line on their faces collected over the years spent apart.

It's a true miracle to stand here and together and so close.

Clarke places a palm on Bellamy's face, wanting to feel his warmth on her skin once again - more of a reassurance to herself that he is indeed real and there, and not just something her mind has made up. Bellamy's eyes flutter closed at the contact, as the tips of her fingers are tracing the curve of his cheekbone, thumb sliding down, feeling the scratch of his beard as it moves.

"You are _so_ scruffy," Clarke finally settles on saying.

Bellamy huffs out a laugh in amusement and offers her one of his slow, crooked smiles. "Manners, _Princess_."

Oh well, she did miss that smile, but she missed him so damn much more. So she smiles back.

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	7. Chapter 7: The Notebook

A _bellarke_ canon future drabble. Speculation/headcanon.

* * *

Bellamy doesn't mean to snoop around. But when Clarke asks him to go and grab the box of spare bullets from under the driver's seat of the rover, she didn't say she was keeping her notebook there full of sketches.

Not _just_ sketches but sketches of him.

So when Madi comes to fetch him because "you are taking too long, old man" he stutters and, well, he needs another minute to process this. A lot of things, actually.

" _Oh_ , I see you've found her diary," Madi giggles.

Bellamy shakes his head, trying to control his breathing, back to normal, because honestly – w h a t?

"Her _diary_?"

Madi nods her head, her giggles slowly settling into a huge grin.

"It's full of sketches of … _me_?" He doesn't mean it as a question, but his heart is kinda beating high and fast in his throat now, his palms feel all sweaty. He clearly didn't expect to see this.

Does he really have so many freckles?

"It's okay," Madi explains." I've found it weird _at first_ to have a book full of the same _tall, dark and handsome_ but - - I understand." She is kicking a stone with her boot, her eyes focusing on a patch of grass on the ground. "It was her way of not losing hope and to remember," Madi mumbles before raising her head and flashing him a small smile again. "You were her favourite in the stories, you know."

Bellamy raises an eyebrow, he means to ask so many things.

"Hey, did you –" Clarke approaches, her eyes spotting the notebook, open, and in his hands.

He shrugs. "Tall, dark and handsome, _huh_?" His voice breaks a little in the middle, but he covers it with a smirk, all in all a little awkward. He thinks his eyes even twitch into an involuntary wink.

He is so out of his game after 6 long years in space, but, that's what you get when living with couples for practically the entirety of it.

Before he can turn beet red, he notices the faint blush on Clarke's cheeks. It's adorable. (And she's incredibly sexy. Motherhood made her mature so much… it's unbelievable. She's been born to this.)

" _Ummm_ – yeah, about that–"

"You drew me?"

She cocks her head to the side. "Well, yeah. I wanted to remember you…"

"And you told Madi stories about me?" he closes the book and takes a step closer.

"ALL of you," Clarke counters, she looks so stubborn – like the Clarke he'd met one day, long, long ago, when he thought she had been spoiled and privileged and he was going to rule camp alone.

"You told stories about me – _tall, dark and handsome_ ," he grins.

Clarke, at the same time huffs, mumbling, " _but of course_ that's the one thing she remembers," and turns her head to shoot a glare at Madi, who is nowhere to be seen.

He stifles a laugh at Madi's antics.

" _Clarke_ ," he takes another step and grabs for her hand to squeeze it. "Let me do it right, _this time_."

He means to say, he has missed her so much, it actually ached for years and he thought he would never really breathe right again. Not until a few weeks ago – not until he's learnt from a small grounder child that she was alive. That he only feels almost whole again because she's here, and he can actually _see her_ , for real, and touch her.

Instead, he tugs on her arm, enveloping her in a hug, thumbs rubbing at the nape of her neck, where her now shorter hair ends. He's breathing her in, until he can feel her breathing even out, and in sync with his. "If I could, I would have drawn you. Every day."

Clarke buries her head deeper into the crook of his neck which is awesome.

After a minute or so, he breaks the silence. "I could be pretty good at it by now, actually, if –"

" _Bellamy_ ," Clarke leans back to look at him," shut up. Let's just enjoy this."

If he could, he'd draw her every day, even now. But, let's be real, nothing will ever compare to the real thing.

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	8. Chapter 8: Puppy Love

**Summary** : You can say this is the continuation of the puppy fic (PUT THE PUPPY DOWN).

* * *

Sometimes Bellamy Blake can hardly believe it's been only a few months since Clarke had grabbed him by the collar and pulled his lips down to hers. He was taken by surprise, sure, and maybe it took him a long minute to kick-start his brain; but in that glorious moment, all he knew was that he was kissing Clarke, really kissing her.

* * *

He and Clarke have been dating for over two months now when the idea of moving together occurs to him. **  
**

He practically confessed he has been in love with her the day after she barged into his apartment.

Her lease is running out in a few months, and quite honestly, he is so in love with this girl… He's probably gonna marry her in a year. If she says _yes_ , that is.

He's looking for the gift-wrapping paper - with the Little Mermaid and Sebastian on it that he bought for special occasions like this - to wrap the tiny box with "the" key.

Well, she already has a key, per se, but he gave it to her as a friend ages ago - when he had to get out of town for a few weeks and he needed someone to water his fern.

(Octavia, of course, made fun of him because _how do you still have that ugly ass fern, Bell_ , but truth is, he had gotten that fern that time they were in IKEA with Clarke and she said he needed a plant for oxygen and decor. And yeah, he is sentimental like that.)

So Clarke got that key as a friend at the time (for purely platonic reasons) and he never thought of asking her to return it. There is nothing platonic about them anymore, and well… He wants to be romantic this time.

He cuts a generous amount from the paper and folds it neatly around the box. Clarke has left some ribbons behind after an art project - and maybe he should have thought about buying a new deep blue ribbon with white polka dots but this will have to do. Clarke won't mind.

But now that he thinks about it, Clarke has more and more stuff at his place, which is oddly comforting. He hasn't paid that much attention to her stuff before, but - the thought of Clarke leaving her things behind - including hairpins and a comb and underwear and artsy throw pillows and whatnot - kind of makes him giddy.

So yeah, Clarke is getting "the" key - a new, symbolic, plastic key this time -, gift wrapped, and he is going to ask her to move in with him. Today. **  
**

(She, of course, points out to him later that she _already_ has a key but – their living arrangement is finally and _officially_ official, so he doesn't argue like he normally would.)

"BELL! Are you home?" says Clarke as she enters the apartment, pulling him back to the present.

"I'll be out in a minute!" he shouts and jumps to his feet, almost tripping on his way out.

Jasper must have woken from his late afternoon power nap because he is as energised as early in the morning.

This is his way of saying 'get me out of the apartment' for a walk.

Well, Jasper has to wait now. He is not going anywhere before kissing his girlfriend hello and –

He exhales. It's really silly to be nervous about this. There _is_ a slight chance Clarke might say it was too early in their relationship but he thinks she won't. She _is_ in this with him for the long ride.

So he's reaching out with a hand as soon as he reaches her, running a thumb along her cheek before diving in for a kiss.

"Hello," Clarke breathes, smiling into their kiss and he is so ready to guide them to the couch to kiss her some more when he hears a muffled noise and breaks their kiss instead.

"Did you hear that?" he frowns.

"Bell, um – " she reaches for his hand, drawing his attention back to hers." Um, there's something I have to tell you."

Jasper scratches the carpet with his paws and his crazy yipping suddenly makes more sense to him as Clarke holds up a tiny bundle of fur.

He stares in confusion. "It's a puppy," he manages at last.

"Yeah –" Clarke says, somewhat guilty." But before you say 'no', hear me out." **  
**

And so she presents him with her case.

It's not like he can say 'no' to stray, orphaned puppies. And it's not like he can say 'no' to Clarke when she is all big, pleading blue eyes.

And he is not saying no to puppy Maya because Clarke, naturally, has already named her – and her case is rock solid, and _together_ they can handle two dogs.

So it is as good time as any to ask.

"I've got something for you, too" he starts, drumming his fingers against the box in his pocket.

Clarke lets go of Maya. Having her standing so close, and just having her so close and knowing there's a good chance it will stay like this makes him smile.

The puppy is shy at first, staying close to Clarke and only taking a few tentative steps, nuzzle on the ground. Jasper barks around her in greeting, scooting closer on his paws. They sniff around each other, more careful at first and then … it's instant puppy love. **  
**

That settles it. Not that he had any doubts before. They are keeping her.

He clears his throat and a gives her the box.

She says yes to him after a round of 'we are moving in together' sex.

And because he feels cheeky in his current sated state, he adds, "You have an awful lot of stuff here, anyway."

She settles her chin on his chest, her fingers drawing circles across his skin.

"I thought you'd never ask," is all she says, smiling coyly before pushing up on her palms and planting a kiss on his lips. His hands find her back on instinct, pulling her closer.

By the time they emerge from the bedroom, Jasper and Maya are settled down on the couch, snuggled together and fast asleep.

* * *

The fern makes it to their wedding reception a year later.

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* * *

 **A/N** : I wrote this a while ago, I'm just bad at updating ffnet. There is a pic edit on my tumblr/ao3: [and ffnet doesn't let me to link this properly... post/164294999606/put-the-puppy-down-bellamy-cannot-say-no-to


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